Chapter 165: A Deeper Level of Contact

The aftereffects of discovering that the so-called "escape route" mapped out last night was actually a "death map" turned out to be far greater than Chen Yu had imagined.

He now understood that relying on that map to swagger around the estate was nothing short of an absolute fantasy.

Every single marked safe point was a bloody trap.

To complete the mission, rescue Li Qing, and find the antidote, simply hiding was completely useless.

He had to penetrate the true core area of this estate.

Yet, his current identity was merely a "disposable consumable" tasked with handling slop and garbage, lacking even the qualification to set foot in those clean and orderly buildings.

"Damn it, I can't spend every day dealing with trash heaps."

Chen Yu muttered inwardly, his eyes constantly scanning the impeccably uniformed administrative staff who occasionally walked past, even as he worked.

The overseers wouldn't do; old Ghost and his crew were at best mere foremen.

He needed a stepping stone that could reach higher-level secrets.

Soon, a man caught his eye.

The man was dressed in an exquisite white suit, wore glasses, and had his hair meticulously combed, giving him a cultured and refined appearance.

Yet, wherever he walked, even the arrogant overseers instinctively lowered their heads, not daring to meet his gaze.

Chen Yu's [Causal Resonance] could perceive that what emanated from this man was a morbid sense of excitement, mixed with an extreme indifference toward life.

He was the perverted mentor responsible for "breaking in" the girls, the one subordinates referred to as "Mr. Wen."

Target locked.

The opportunity presented itself with a speed that somewhat surprised Chen Yu.

In the afternoon, a sealed van quietly drove into the estate's logistics area, and several newcomers were roughly shoved out.

This meant the "tutoring room" was about to welcome new "art pieces."

With a gloomy face, old Ghost walked out of the overseers' dormitory, his gaze sweeping across all the laborers handling garbage.

Finally, his eyes came to rest on Chen Yu.

Over the past few days, Chen Yu's portrayal of "A-Zhe" had been nothing short of perfection.

A piece of trash utterly ruined by gambling debts, numb, obedient, and submissive. Apart from "accidentally" tipping over a trash can a few days ago when he was brutally beaten by Scarface, he had not caused a single wave.

"A-Zhe, you."

Old Ghost pointed his chin toward a cleaning cart not far away.

"Mr. Wen is short of a pair of hands down there. Go to the third basement level and clean up the 'garbage' inside."

"Remember, bring only your eyes and hands, not your brain or your mouth. Don't look at what shouldn't be looked at, and don't ask what shouldn't be asked. Understand?"

Chen Yu immediately assumed a flustered expression of flattered surprise, bowing and scraping as he replied, "Understood, understood! Thank you, Brother Ghost! I'll definitely work hard!"

Inside, however, he was sneering coldly: "Old bastard, you're finally willing to give me a chance."

Pushing the squeaking cleaning cart, guided by an overseer, he walked toward the building he had been longing to enter.

With every floor they descended, the air grew increasingly damp and chilling.

By the time they reached the third basement level, that distinctive odor was enough to nearly overwhelm a person.

It was a heavy stench of blood, the pungent reek of disinfectants, and an indescribable, sour, and rotting aroma fermented by despair and fear.

Chen Yu forcefully fought down the churning in his stomach and suppressed the emotions threatening to erupt, pushing the cart through the heavy metal door.

Beyond that door lay the place where "Butterfly Dream" began.

And the hell of all the girls.

The room, spacious to a fault, was brightly and dazzlingly lit.

Yet, there was not a shred of vitality within it.

Five or six young girls, like slaughtered livestock, were suspended in mid-air by specialized leather shackles. They wore uniform white sheer gauze, their graceful figures faintly visible through the fabric.

Their eyes were hollow and vacant, as if their souls had been extracted, leaving behind only empty shells at the mercy of others.

Chen Yu's gaze swept past them swiftly; Li Qing was not among them.

A slight sense of relief washed over him, but the fury burning in his chest raged even hotter.

In the center of the room, his locked target—Wen Qian—was pinching the chin of a newly arrived girl, examining her with the perverted gaze of an art connoisseur.

"Look, such beautiful eyes, like a pool of clear spring water. But the spring water is far too still, lacking a soul."

Wen Qian's voice was gentle, resembling an earnest teacher, but the content of his words made one's blood run cold.

"Art requires collision and blooming. Don't be afraid. Soon, you will understand what true beauty is. Like a butterfly, you will break out of your cocoon and be reborn right here..."

Just as his voice trailed off, the back of a small scalpel in his hand gently grazed the girl's cheek.

The girl let out a muffled cry of pain, and tears welled up instantly in her eyes.

"Tsk, crying again." Wen Qian shook his head, a look of disappointment crossing his face. "It seems today's lesson will have to start all over again."

Only then did he notice Chen Yu pushing the cleaning cart by the doorway.

Wen Qian released the girl, pacing leisurely toward Chen Yu.

His eyes inspected Chen Yu up and down like a venomous snake, carrying the picky and disdainful scrutiny of someone appraising goods.

"New?"

Chen Yu kept his head down, his body uncontrollably "trembling," his voice laced with a shudder: "Ye... Yes, sir, Brother Ghost sent me to... to clean..."

"Crack."

A soft sound echoed.

With his white-gloved hand, Wen Qian patted Chen Yu's cheek.

The icy touch was accompanied by a reek of blood.

The gesture was intensely insulting.

"Do your job well, trash."

The corners of "Mr. Wen's" mouth split into a morbid smile as he leaned close to Chen Yu's ear, whispering in a breathy voice.

"Don't go rolling those filthy eyes of yours around, defiling my art pieces."

"Otherwise, I wouldn't mind adding a moving male specimen to my collection."

Chen Yu's body trembled even more violently, making it difficult for him to stand steady, and he mumbled incoherently, "I wouldn't dare, I wouldn't dare... This humble one saw nothing..."

Yet, at that very moment, a towering, monstrous intent to kill was surging within his mind.

He was even simulating how much force to use and from what angle to punch this perverted bastard's head until it exploded.

But he couldn't.

Now was not the time.

"Get lost and do your work."

Wen Qian seemed satisfied with Chen Yu's reaction, waving his hand as if shooing away a fly.

Granted a reprieve, Chen Yu immediately pushed the cart, shivering all the way to a corner, and began cleaning up the blood-stained gauze and instruments.

With his head lowered, he perfectly played the part of a frightened coward.

Yet his ears were perked higher than anyone else's.

Wen Qian seemed to have completely forgotten this minor episode as he turned to give instructions to his assistant nearby.

"Process today's 'semi-finished products.' For tomorrow's exhibition, I want to see them in their absolute perfection."

"Also, go to 'Laboratory Number One' and urge them. I need the latest batch of stabilizers, with a higher concentration. This batch's willpower is stronger than I anticipated."

The assistant replied respectfully, "Understood, Mr. Wen."

Laboratory Number One!

Product Exhibition!

Chen Yu's heart gave a violent leap.

He burned these two terms deep into his memory.

This trip to hell had certainly not been in vain.

That "Laboratory Number One" was very likely the key to manufacturing the "Butterfly Dream" poison, or its antidote!

Enduring Wen Qian's scorching gaze, which felt like needles pricking his back, he numbly cleared away the "garbage" on the floor.

Every time he bent down, every time he picked something up, it felt as though he were accumulating strength.

He had to find that laboratory.

At this moment, that was his sole obsession.